Torture
by lovetolaugh294
Summary: Lizzie meeting Gordo under different conditions. She's a depressed teenager. It's a depressing story, so if you don't want to be depressed by it, DON'T READ IT, k?


December 21, 2003  
This is definitely the way I like to spend my winter vacation.  
Packed up in some crowded room in the middle of nowhere.  
Surrounded by people I've never met before.  
Totally alone.  
Why did they have to condemn me to this? Why'd they have to leave me alone?  
Why'd they have to die?  
It's my fault.  
It all is.  
I could have stopped it.  
If only...  
No. I told myself I wouldn't think like that.  
I'm an orphan.  
My parents are gone.  
I have no known relatives. They're all gone.  
I'm the last one.  
The lone survivor.  
Alone in this world of hate and torment.  
Why?  
I know why. Because on that fatal night, I had the stupidity to walk out of my house with the intention of never coming back. "I've had enough," I said. But now I know. I hadn't had nearly enough.  
They loved me. My parents loved me.  
Me.  
Why did they have to come after me? I would have been fine. They didn't need to get in the car and look for me.  
As soon as I saw the crash I knew.  
I don't know how I did. It just happened. Like déjà vu. I knew that it was my parents in that crash.  
And I knew that they weren't going to make it.  
Merry Christmas to me.  
  
December 22, 2003  
The shrinks say that we need to be surrounded by our friends and family in times of trouble. I'm supposing by "we," she means me.  
To which I reply:  
What friends? What family?  
I have no one.  
Can't you get that through your thick head?  
She sent me away.  
Said she didn't want to see me until I was calm.  
I'm not going to be calm.  
My parents are dead.  
How can I be calm?  
Someone tried to talk to me.  
It was a boy.  
I think I've forgotten how to speak. I couldn't form a coherent sentence when he asked my name. I just kept silent.  
He looked sorry for me.  
I don't want pity.  
I don't want help.  
I want my life back.  
I want my parents back.  
  
December 23, 2003  
That boy talked to me again.  
He told me he knows what I'm going through.  
His parents were killed too.  
And that helped, to know I'm not alone.  
I didn't talk back. I couldn't without bursting into tears.  
They call this place an orphanage, but to me it's just a prison.  
Keeping me away from the world.  
The world of answers.  
Maybe this boy has the answers. I don't know. Maybe no one has the answers. I don't know that either.  
Christmas is in 2 days.  
No one bought me anything. I know it.  
No one cares enough.  
  
December 24, 2003  
It's Christmas Eve.  
When my parents were alive, they used to hold my hand and help me put out the cookies and milk for Santa. When I got too old for Santa, they helped me place last minute gifts under the tree. Secretly, I wanted that hand to hold mine, keep me a little girl forever.  
Now I just want to see them again.  
That boy's becoming my friend.  
His name is Gordo. He found out my name from one of the counselors.  
I haven't said a word to him. I don't need to.  
He knows.  
He knows how I'm feeling when he looks into my eyes. It's like he can see into my inner soul, into places where I can't even reach.  
He talks to me.  
He talks to me about sunshine, about rain, about fire, about wind. About the gentle breeze on your face while riding a horse.  
All I ever wanted was a horse.  
I wanted to learn how to ride it, to groom it, to saddle it.  
I just wanted something I could call my own.  
Every year, for Christmas or my birthday, I'd ask for a horse.  
And every year I was disappointed.  
When I was about 10, I gave up completely.  
But my parents didn't know that I still longed for that horse.  
This boy takes me to places I've never gone before.  
To places I never dreamed I'd go.  
I like that.  
  
December 25, 2003  
I talked to him.  
I was able to tell him thank you.  
He gave me a Christmas present.  
My only one.  
He bought me a teddy bear.  
It was identical to the one I owned at home.  
When I asked him how he knew, he shrugged.  
"Must be intuition." He said, smiling.  
He's always smiling.  
Like he knows something I don't.  
Sometimes it bothers me. I want to be let in on the secret too. But sometimes its nice. Something that will always be there for me.  
That's what I thought about my parents too.  
And they're not here anymore.  
I cried today. For the first time since they left.  
It felt good.  
  
December 26, 2003  
I've been thinking today.  
Where am I going to go from here?  
They can't keep a 13 year old cramped in a room with twenty or thirty young kids for the rest of her life. Gordo's 15. I feel bad for him. He's been here for over ten years, and no one's adopted him.  
"I'm used to it." Is what he said. "Most people want to raise a young kid. I was a terror as a young kid, so no one wanted me. Now that I've calmed down, no one wants me."  
I saw something in his eyes. It made me sad, because it was so close to the look I've seen in my eye in the mirror.  
"I want you." I told him. My cheeks flushed when I realized what I had said.  
He looked me in the eye.  
It's been so long since someone has done that.  
I couldn't breathe.  
He leaned closer to me.  
I jumped up and ran.  
I was scared.  
I can't love anyone. When I love someone, they're gone.  
I don't want Jordan to leave. He can't. He's the only thing good in my life right now.  
He's my everything.  
  
December 27, 2003  
My shrink talked to me again.  
I don't know why she keeps trying.  
I didn't get asked to leave today. I stayed the whole time.  
I kept asking myself why.  
Why am I even here?  
When she asked me if I was angry, I told her yes.  
When she asked me who I was angry at, I told her myself.  
She tried to convince me it wasn't my fault.  
It didn't work.  
It is my fault.  
I told Gordo this. He just listened as I talked to him. The most I've ever said in his presence.  
He didn't convince me that I was wrong. He didn't even try.  
He just looked at me.  
When the tears dripped down my face, he held me in his arms.  
It made me cry harder.  
Everything came pouring out. The feelings of longing for my parents, for someone to love me.  
All in the shape of tears.  
And Jordan just sat there, holding me.  
  
December 28th, 2003  
I found a razor today.  
I didn't mean to. One of the older girls left it in the bathroom.  
I picked it up.  
It's in my backpack.  
I remember the feeling of relief.  
The feeling that can only come when the hard, cold knife cuts into the soft, warm skin.  
That's why the accident was my fault.  
They saw the cuts.  
That's why I shouldn't have left my house.  
They were just trying to help me.  
I stood in the bathroom for a long while, holding the razor, until someone knocked on the door, screaming obscenities.  
When I got out, I was shaking.  
I hid it. I don't trust myself.  
  
December 29th, 2003  
Gordo's leaving.  
He's been adopted.  
He told me that it was the only way he could ever get out.  
He said he thought that I would understand.  
All I could do was look at him.  
It reminded me of the first time he ever tried to talk to me.  
Except this time, he was at a loss for words too.  
When he left me, I found the razor in my backpack and went into the bathroom.  
As the scars in my arm reopened, the blood seemed to wash away all my worries.  
The object in my hand seemed foreign. It seemed to be from some far away place.  
But as soon as it cut into my skin, I knew it was home.  
  
December 30th, 2003  
Tomorrow's New Year's Eve.  
I don't want to celebrate.  
I'd rather be dead.  
Gordo came and said goodbye for the last time today.  
I yelled.  
I don't even know what I was saying.  
I thought I could trust him. I thought he was the only person that would ever be there for me.  
I thought I loved him.  
But I was right. Everyone I love ends up leaving.  
My parents.  
The dreams of that horse.  
Gordo.  
I don't want to be alive. There's nothing to live for.  
I thought I could live for Gordo, but I was wrong.  
  
December 31st, 2003  
It's almost midnight.  
I've been dreading this moment.  
I know I have to do it.  
There's nothing else to be done.  
No one will care.  
Let someone find my cold, dead body alone on the bathroom floor.  
I'm ending it.  
No more pain.  
The razor cuts into my skin.  
Deeper this time. Deeper than it ever has been.  
I cry. Tears of pain, tears of hurt, tears of joy.  
Before the end of this night, I'll see my parents again.  
I collapse on the floor, dizzy. My arms are still bleeding openly. I know that if I don't stop the blood, I'll die.  
It's not like I want to live.  
I cut my arm again and again, trying to make death faster. All I succeed in doing is causing myself more pain.  
I can feel the end coming. The end of my pain.  
Goodbye.  
Happy New Year.


End file.
